


Drabbles for Fun

by veereble_atsim_iali



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: BillDip, Demon Summoning, Demon flirting, Demons, Drabbles, Dreams, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, I'll add tags as I go along, M/M, Slow To Update, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Stalking, because bill likes to do that, bed sharing that is neither cute nor fluffy, but usually only hinted at, dipper wears a dress, human!bill cipher, i wrote those to make me feel better, i'm a tease with the billdip feels, minor gore, probably, seriously fluffy in some parts, silly demon, some are really short, some kind of wtnv thing in one chapter, tagging like i'm on tumblr because i can't help it, talk of marriage to a teenage boy, that's how things usually go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veereble_atsim_iali/pseuds/veereble_atsim_iali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles of the Billdip variety. Random and short and just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snuggles

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing these drabbles at the end of Nanowrimo. I was 6k from the end and having trouble with my insurance to get my meds, so I was stressed and wanted something fluffy to make me feel better. So, I created a Gravity Falls sideblog and started to write drabbles for the show. Most will at least hint at BillDip (because that's my ship).

Bill liked snuggles. A lot. He couldn't feel them, but he liked them anyway. Mostly because they came from Pine Tree. Sure, Shooting Star would hug him too, but the best always came from his Pine Tree. Even without any physical nerve endings they always seemed warm and soft and he could just imagine what it must be like to smell Dipper as he was being hugged. 

So, he harassed the kid into giving them all the time. Be it the threat of nightmares or just singing at a loud volume until the kid cracked like an egg. The kid acted like he hated it. All those frowns and sighs and 'go away you demented triangle,' but he wasn't fooling Bill. 

Not when he could peek into the kids mind and feel the hugs from his side. Bill knew his points dug into pine tree when they hugged, but the kid always tightened his arms around him- just for a second- before he let go. He's pretty sure it means something. He could always peek into the kid’s head, but he figures he'll let his Pine Tree tell him when he's ready. 

Until then, he'll just encourage him with more hugs, possibly weaponizing them if it could make things go faster.


	2. Night Time Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older!Dipper in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one I did just to make myself feel better.

Finally, Bill thought to himself, the kid is asleep. 

As he had promised, he had kept an eye on the Pines twins over the years and developed little habits about it. And one of those was to see Pine Tree off to his dreams every time he slept. At first, it had just been to warp them as he pleased- the kid had been adorable when he was shrieking in terror- but it became something... else. It didn't feel right to miss it, just like he wouldn't miss any of Shooting Star's plays (not that she knew he was there). 

But, Pine Tree didn't always sleep like he should, or at least as much as humans needed. Seemed Pine Tree found everything much more important than sleep. Bill hated it. All he wanted was to see the kid every night, like he did Shooting Star, on the edge of dreaming and waking, and give them the final push into their dreams. But no. He had to wait. Days. Sometimes weeks before the kid gave up the ghost and collapsed. 

It was tempting to force Pine Tree to sleep but then he would know Bill was watching, which would take some of the fun out of it. 

This time, he hovered over the kid's shoulder as he sprawled over some books on his desk- the kid's mind was a spin about something final? tests?- and watched the kid sink down into the depths of the dreamscape. (As punishment for making him wait, Bill set the kids alarm a few hours back to make sure he stayed asleep, and laughed the next morning when Dipper was nearly late.)


	3. Dreamland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12 year old Dipper in this one. Human!Bill.
> 
> Bill uses the wrong pronouns for Dipper in this one- just a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is not as fluffy as the other ones and longer too. I mostly wrote it just for the last line.

Dipper was wearing a dress. He wasn't sure WHY he was wearing a dress- bright blue with bloomers and stockings- much less why he was wearing it while wandering through the woods, but he was and it didn't seem to important at the moment.

There was a distant sound of upbeat music echoing through the woods, and he was following it to its source. He was so close now, he could almost hear the words, so he picked up the pace. Soon the trees parted to an open glen and in the center, surrounded by a fence, was a house and garden. The music was coming from the garden.

Unable to resist a peak, Dipper walked closer and pushed open the garden fence. A large table dominated the garden, covered in sweets, cups, and teapots- a tea party of some sort? Before he could take a better look the garden fence slammed open and the boy was suddenly pushed inside so hard he fell flat. 

The music came to a dead stop. 

'Crap.' Dipper looked up with dread. 

"Well, who are you?" A girl, so vaguely familiar, stood in front of him dressed as a Victorian gentlemen with bunny ears on top of her head. The ears twitched and she tilted her head and squinted at him.

"Sorry." Dipper winced and pushed himself up. "I just wanted to see what was going on." He fiddled with his skirt, pushing it down so his frilly bloomers weren't in full view; his cheeks flushed because he couldn't shake the feeling that this was suddenly embarrassing.

The girl crossed her arms. "Sorry doesn't explain who you are."

"Oh~," another voice cut in, "it's dear Alice." It was a masculine voice, but high pitched and nasally. A golden triangle, wearing a top hat and carrying a cane, suddenly hovered in Dipper's face. "She's come to join our party, March Hare."

"Oh." The girl suddenly grinned wide, displaying braces and dimples. "She should have just said so!" With strength belied by her frame, she hauled Dipper to his feet. 

"W-wait," Dipper sputtered and slapped at the girl's hands to get her to let go. "I'm not-"

"Don't be shy!" The triangle hooked the cane into the crook of Dipper's arm and dragged him over to a seat at the table.

The March Hare pulled out a chair for him with a flourish.

Dipper was shoved into the seat before he could protest and was pushed in- when he tried, he found he could not move the chair back at all. 

"One lump or two," the March Hare questioned as she pushed a flowery teacup into Dipper's slack hand. 

Dipper stared at the cup dumbly. "Uh..."

"She'll have two," the triangle stated, bringing up his own cup to sip from though he didn't even have a mouth...

It was then that Dipper realized that he was dreaming, but he wasn't so sure he had created the dream himself or if a certain demon had a hand in it.

Mabel, or March Hare Mabel, dropped the cubes into Dipper cup and then started to pile sweets on to a plate.

"You know," Dipper scowled into his tea, "the Mad Hatter wasn't a triangle, Bill." His glare moved from the tea to the demon.

Bill cackled to himself, his eye curved into a grin. "I guess you're right, kid." The demon started to shine brightly.

Dipper dropped his teacup- which, of course, ended up in his lap- and threw up his hands to protect them from being blinded.

Mabel's voice faded until it was suddenly quiet. 

"How's this?" Bill asked, his voice slightly deeper but not by much.

Cautiously, Dipper brought down his hands and cracked open his eyes.

The demon triangle was gone and in his place was a swarthy man, skinny as a rail and dressed in a gold vest, with golden hair and an eye-patch over one eye.

"Bill?" Was that really the same demon?

"That's right, Alice." Bill grinned, his teeth seemingly sharp while being flat and perfect, and his lips stretched so wide that it looked painful.

Dipper thought that it was a sort of smile suited more to the Cheshire Cat.


	4. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Over the Garden Wall. Not a cross-over though. Twin feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this one I wasn't sure if I would ever continue it, but I just wanted to get it out of my head. I have recently decided to continue it, but I decided to post the bit I did write here.

Fall fell like a cloak over the land, everything hushed as if a loud noise would usher in the cold of winter. More leaves were found on the ground than in the trees and the wind carried a chill far and wide. Everything was painted in autumn’s colors as the plants prepared for a harsh winter nap. The forest seemed empty.

Except for the two children wandering along the path through the trees, leaves smashing beneath their shoes. A boy, a girl, and a pig setting forth into the Unknown with no idea what they would face. 

"I don't think I've seen a cuter pig than mine," the girl declared into the silence. "He's got the perfect, little curly tail- and have you seen his nose?" She squealed with delight and clutched the pig closer to her chest. "Waddles is the most perfect pig in the universe."

"That's great, Mabel," the boy responded dully, his mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

"Isn't it?" Mabel's grin displayed her braces fully. "And of course, his waddle is the cutest-"

It was then that the boy's mind snapped to attention. "Wait." He spun around and peered into the trees. "Where are we?"

"In the woods." Mabel tilted her head.

Waddles, the pig, copied the movement.

"Yeah, but WHY are we in the woods?" The boy shoved his trucker hat out the way to tug at his hair- his mind seemed filled with a fog. Everything before this moment was a blur to him and no amount of effort brought it back into focus.

"Dipper, you were the one who wanted to go on a monster hunt, remember?" Mabel flipped her curly, brown hair over her shoulder with a frown.

"I think we're lost," Dipper muttered and spun around again as if he would suddenly find something he recognized. "We're lost, Mabel! We should have left a trail or something." 

Mabel placed down her pig and dug through the pockets of her large sweater. "I could leave a trail of stickers?" Out of her pocket she pulled out a booklet of stickers.

"That won't work," Dipper sighed. 

"Or candy?" She pulled out a piece, unwrapped it, and tossed it into her mouth.

"It definitely won't work if you eat the candy." Dipper slapped a hand to his forehead. "Can't you take this seriously? We have no idea where we are."

Mabel dropped her candy wrapper without care. "Well, I know where you are, and you know where I am," she poked Dipper on the cheek, "and we both know where Waddles is."

Dipper scowled and rubbed his cheek.

"I think that's good enough for now, because we're all together." The girl lit up with a smile and threw an arm over her twin's shoulder.

"Yeah," Dipper mumbled back sarcastically, but his frown faded away. "I guess at least we're together."

"And I'm sure we'll figure something out, bro bro." Mabel let go of Dipper and held up her fist for a first bump.

Dipper reluctantly grinned back and bumped his own fist to hers. 

As long as they had each other they could face the Unknown without fear. But neither could really guess what was waiting for them in the dark woods, or what it was they were forgetting.


	5. Beetlejuice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is talk of marriage to a teenage Dipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a scene from Beetlejuice.

This just wasn't right. No matter what this supposed 'psychic' was saying, Dipper knew this whole ritual was wrong.

Sure, they were ghosts, but Stanford and Stanley were good people. Okay, so they might have tried to chase them out of their house at first, but they were nice to Dipper and his sister, Mabel. And no one had gotten hurt- at least not until that weird specter, Bill, had gotten involved- which is when Mr. and Mrs. Pines decided to have an exorcism.

It was clear that whatever this ritual was, it was hurting the Stan's. Their faces pale and withered and with clear pain on their faces. 

This had to stop.

Mabel had tried to stop the psychic, somewhat violently, but Mr. Pines had caught her and held her back. 

Dipper knew he had to try another method. He only had one idea and he did. Not. Like. It. At all. 

Bill.

He was still in the model, perched on headstone in the cemetery and calmly filing his nails as the chaos went on, seemingly absorbed in the task.

Dipper's fists clenched until his knuckles went white. "Help them! Please!" 

Bill tilted his head up to look at the teenage boy, his top hat shadowing his bored expression.

"You can do something, can't you?" Dipper bit his lip; he had no idea what he'd do if Bill refused to help.

"Of course," Bill smiled, his pointy teeth bared fully, and sat up straighter. "But you have to do something for me first." 

"What?" Dipper narrowed his eyes and inched away from the model. 

Bill put the nail file into an inner pocket of his coat. "Thing is, Pine Tree-"

Without thought, Dipper's hand shot up to clutch at his hat.

"- I want out," Bill continued. "I have some business in the living world, and being dead is really putting a kink in those plans." The man shrugged. "But, the only way I can get out is if I marry a living person."

A disgruntled expression crossed Dipper's face.

"Hey," Bill held up his hand defensively, "I don't make the rules- I don't even have any rules." He snickered at Dipper's scowl

"So, I have to," Dipper hesitated, unwilling to let it pass his lips, "and you'll save them?"

Bill straightened his bow tie. "Be my blushing bride and it's done. Do we have a deal?"

What choice did Dipper have? It was either this or let the Stan's suffer death a second time. 

Dipper nodded sharply. 

"Then you know what to do~."

A deep breath. "Bill Cipher," the teenager squeaked out.

Bill's grin grew wider. 

"Bill Cipher." Dipper bit his lip, still uncertain- was he really going to go through with this?

Bill leaned forward expectantly.

"Bill Cipher," he whispered out on a breath, quiet and subdued, but it was enough.

The demon spread his arms wide. "It's show time."


	6. Not Really Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some rambling about Bill's human form. No plot to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, it's been a while since I've added to this. That's mainly because I've been writing for other fandoms (without completing anything so there's nothing posted). I haven't had a computer for months so I typed this into Google docs on my phone (which was a real hassle) and it's been sitting there because I didn't really like it. But whatever! Take it! 
> 
> Sorry if it doesn't format right; I'm still using my phone.

For a shape-shifting demon, assuming a human form was an easy trick. Too easy, Bill would complain as he could be anyone and everyone in less time it took to blink. After all, the mind was his domain and he was a being of pure energy; it was child’s play and he enjoyed flaunting his abilities.

This skill didn't transfer over to creating a body in the physical realm. Sure, most people just accepted Bill's form at face value, seeing the humanoid shell as one of them and dismissing anything that challenged that view. 

But to Dipper it was painfully obvious and frustrating that most of the town naively believed the demon to be charming and handsome. How could they not see the signs? 

Because, even parading around in human skin, Bill always seemed… off. Even when he made an effort to act like a person, the lack of humanity was jarringly obvious.

Not just in his actions and mannerisms, but in the fact that his shell of humanity only mimicked a man with many liberties taken in the build. 

His wrists were terribly thin, not delicate but brittle, capped off with fine boned hands and fingers that were too long, stretched out like curling, sharp shadows from his palms. Remove his gloves and his fingers were skeletal thin, as if emaciated, and had too many knuckles. 

It was more obvious when holding Bill’s hand that his bones were hollow like a bird’s, seemingly delicate but no matter how hard Dipper gripped, the bones only creaked loudly but never broke.

(Bill only giggled, fluttered his eye as if flattered, then squeezed back tighter until Dipper begged for mercy.)

Perhaps that wasn't as apparent since Bill avoided touching most 'meatsacks,' but there were more signs. 

The demon's smile always stretched impossibly wide, startlingly similar to the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, with straight and white teeth that formed a 'piano key' smile. Despite his teeth being perfectly formed and flat, they gave off the appearance of being sharp and fanged.

Not to mention that Bill would occasionally forget to speak with his mouth, too busy smiling usually, and his voice regained its usual echoey quality while it came from the air around him. He took too much glee in barring his teeth and most people thought it some party trick, like ventriloquists.

But, Dipper found the most obvious thing to be Bill's eye - singular as Bill couldn't be bothered to make another one and just wore an eyepatch to make it less obvious. (Dipper had seen under the patch once and sometimes it haunted his nightmares without any help from Bill). It was flat and glassy, as if he were stuck in a fever dream and couldn't see the world in front of him. 

His stare was like a doll's, unblinking and lifeless and completely unnerving. No light reflected from his eye like the void of a black hole, drawing in everything including light itself and allowing nothing to escape. Looking into that eye, the cold emptiness of the cosmos stared back.

(And Dipper was far too familiar with staring into that abyss as Bill had no sense of personal space and enjoyed making him uncomfortable.)

Put everything together and Bill was too uncomfortable an experience to accept as purely human. Like the boogeyman decided to play dress up in a suit and top hat. It should be enough to make anyone's hair stand on end. 

And yet people were fooled because the demon was undeniably charming, and not even Dipper was completely immune from Bill's charm.


	7. Not So Sleepy Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climax of Sleepy Hollow (1999), with Gravity Falls characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is another movie parody? It wasn't really my intention to write mostly parodies for this collection, but that seems to be what's happening. Oh well, hopefully I'll have more to offer sooner or later.
> 
> I imagine, as background for this drabble, that Dipper used to be really into the paranormal and such due to his great Uncle. His parents never really approved and forced him to give up such fancies as he grew older (Mabel tried to keep his passion alive, but Dipper grew more resistant to it after his great Uncle died). So, he clung to logic and reason and become part of the police. He kind of drives his supervisors up the wall though, so they sent him off to Sleepy Hollow to test his methods on the murders happening there. 
> 
> Of course, Mabel won't let him just leave her behind.
> 
> Pacifica's birth mother died when she was young and her father remarried to Priscilla, who was hungry for power and money. But, when part of the fortune is going to end up in the hands of some bastard child, she uses Bill to eliminate everything standing in her way.

Nature itself seemed to revolt at the reunion of the headless horseman and his skull. An icy wind howled through the trees, the creaking of their boughs joining the cacophony into a crescendo with the faint cries of animals.

Dipper’s hair nearly stood on end. Had he made the right choice giving the nightmare apparition its missing head? He had known that he couldn’t possibly allow Priscilla Northwest to continue using the horseman as her pawn, collaring the creature with magic and its own body, but who was to know what it would do now that it was free?

There was no way to undo what had already been done.

The horseman raised the skull to connect at the stump of its neck, the disjointed flesh curling up to cling to the bleached bone like some kind of parasite. It screamed, clawing at the forming flesh with inhuman noises of pain, as first muscles and tendons stretched across its skull followed by blood vessels and then skin. Hair began to sprout in bloody clumps, growing out into a dull blond color to curl around newly formed ears.

Then it opened its eyes.

Dipper stumbled back, throwing out an arms as if to shield his sister and the young Northwest heiress from the ferocity of the creature’s gaze. He now understood why some had referred to the mercenary as a Demon in life.

Those eerie yellow eyes seemed to burn like hell fire, consuming everything that caught the horseman’s attention, and his mouth parted to bare sharpened teeth in a wild smile. His dark skin was tattooed with various designs, magic symbols Dipper recognized from his great uncle’s books, as well as an eye tattoo right in the middle of his forehead. The evil eye, a symbol feared by many.

Suddenly, all three eyes seemed to focus on Dipper, piercing through his flesh to see his very soul. He trembled, feeling very much like a mouse before a bird of prey. Those eyes held a glint of playful sadism and though they burned through Dipper, they held no warmth or humanity.

The horseman’s smile twitched wider, eyes staring intense and bright right into Dipper’s eyes. He lifted a gloved hand and curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture, cooing something saccharine sweet in a foreign tongue.

Dipper stepped further back, trying to herd the women further behind him who had been struck just as mute as him.

Amused, the Demon barked out a laugh and then moved as if to dismount his nightmare steed, but stopped mid-motion to glance over his shoulder.

Dipper’s eyes followed the creature’s line of sight.

Priscilla stumbled to her feet, swaying from the aftereffects of having been struck from behind by her daughter. Her face was pale and her eyes wide and bloodshot.

“I saved you,” she whispered, the wind having suddenly cut off to leave an unnatural silence in the glade. Her voice grew louder as she insisted, “I woke you from your slumber! You owe me your servitude!” She grew shrill and quaked under the horseman’s gaze. “Finish the job! Kill them!”

Dipper tensed, feeling Mabel and Pacifica pressed closer to his back- not using him as a shield, but seeking assurance from him. He wished he could give it to them; if the Demon did choose to attack them there was little he could do.

Over their encounters, no one had managed to even slow down the headless horseman, not with bullets or blades or magic. Everything had been shrugged off with little effort as it collected its victim’s heads. There was no reason for that to change now that he had his own head.

But the horseman didn’t turn to face their little group. He tossed back his head and laughed, his voice smooth and powerful despite its high pitch, then urged his mount to charge the witch who once ordered him about.

Priscilla yelped and stumbled back, losing her step among the leaf litter. 

The Demon was there before she could even finish her fall, his hand snapping forward to grasp her by her throat and lift her clear off her feet. The wind suddenly sprung back into motion, howling as it twisted around the rider and threw his hair into wild disarray, distorting his voice as he snarled in the witch’s face. 

Whatever he said, he left Priscilla terrified; she clawed frantically at the horseman’s arms and hands, though she did little damage due to the leather he wore, and choked out a wail. Her eyes rolled about like some sort of mad animal and her dainty feet kicked at nothing.

The Demon found this hilarious, letting out another loud peal of laughter as he pulled the reigns sharply to side so his horse wheeled around to face the Tree of the Dead from which he had emerged.

At the base of the tree, the horseman’s collection of heads quivered in place before parting inwards with a disgusting squelch of blood and viscera to reveal a dark opening. At the center, the faint glow of fire pulsed like some depraved heartbeat of the tree.

Dipper’s stomach clenched as he forced back nausea and swallowed past his dry throat. 

Pacifica whimpered quietly, pressing close to Mabel to hide her face in the other’s shoulder. Her trembling only grew stronger as Mabel wrapped her arms around her.

The nightmare horse reared up with shrill whinny, slamming its hooves into the floor to stamp impatiently, but the Demon didn’t urge it forward.

Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, his disturbing eyes locked intently on Dipper and completely ignoring the struggles of his captive, and pulled out a blue rose. He pressed a chaste kiss to the flower’s petals and then tossed it directly to Dipper with a wink.

Dipper reached out, more on reflex than any genuine desire to have the gift, and caught the rose, the thorns slicing instantly into the flesh of fingers like knives. He flinched but couldn’t get his fingers to let go of the flower, the unusual colored petals being stained by his blood, held in place by the Demon’s gaze.

The Demon grinned, clearly pleased, and finally urged his horse to charge forward at breakneck speed and leap into the gore filled opening in the tree. As he passed through, the opening sealed back shut with the same disquieting noise with which it opened, though it hardly covered the last shriek of Priscilla.

The glade once again fell silent, though it was more natural than the one previously. The three humans remaining were too stunned to move for several seconds.

The pain in his hand finally made Dipper move, and he dropped the ‘gift’ to the ground. He stared at the blood staining it and had the unsettling feeling that somehow he had made some sort of contract with the devil. 

“Dipper?”

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the rose and turned to face Mabel.

She still clung to the Northwest heiress, though her trembling had mostly subsided. “Can we go home? Home home,” she emphasized, as the Northwest manor had been acting as their home for the past weeks. “Please?”

It was obvious by her ‘we’ that she meant all of them, not just her and her twin. And, though Dipper and Pacifica had never managed to see eye to eye, he still couldn’t deny his sister anything.

“Yeah.” He cast one last glance back at the twisted Tree of the Dead, wanting nothing more to leave this whole nightmarish adventure behind them. With a weak smile, he held out his hand to his twin to hold hands like they often did as kids. “Let’s all go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I ended up putting more thought into this drabble then I usually do, especially considering that I don't want to write the full fic, haha.
> 
> And yes, I do still intend to write the full Beetlejuice fic. I just got distracted by other fandoms for a bit and I haven't finished plotting out all the details. I can't promise I'll start posting it soon or anything, but I'm still working on it.


	8. Sleeping Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I was just thinking about the whole bed sharing troupe and this popped into my head. It feels like it's part of something bigger, but I don't have an actual plot to go with this.
> 
> Also, I guess this idea was influenced by this piece of fiction I read a while ago (I can't remember where or when) about a vampire and a human. In it, dawn had caught them unaware and the human dragged the vampire into a closet where they used clothes to block up all the holes so no sunlight got in. Then the human was forced to spend the entire day in the closet with what amounted to a corpse; let me just say, this creeped me the fuck out. Which is probably why this ended up kind of creepy rather than cute and fluffy.

Dipper wondered to himself, as he stared across the bed at a certain demon in human form, how he got himself into these sort of situations. He had done his best to be a good person, give or take a few asshole moments here or there, so what had he done to deserve the sort of luck he had?

It had started six years after they had stopped Weirdmageddon; he and Mabel had just graduated High School and were considering what to do with the rest of their lives when they had gotten a call from Grunkle Ford. They had just returned to Gravity Falls after spending months at sea, taking time to relax with friends before they began to plan another trip, when Ford had discovered that Bill had not been destroyed. He refused to go into detail about how he found out but he was shaken by the discovery.

According to his calculations, Bill would regain full power in about fifteen years and would be free to start wreaking havoc once again. Of course Ford was already working on a plan to trap isosceles monster, but he needed Dipper’s help with the spell.

Dipper had been quick to agree. He had already decided to take a gap year so he had plenty of time to help his Great Uncle with his plan.

Now Bill was trapped in a human form- and ‘human’ was used loosely as nothing about his body was organic- and needed to be watched so he couldn’t get into any trouble. Cut off from the Mindscape, Bill couldn’t regain anymore power than he already had, but they could not find a way to strip away what the demon had already claimed. Luckily, his new body wasn’t suited for conducting a large amount of Bill’s powers so he was limited more to party tricks and altering his body’s form.

It would be enough to keep Bill from enacting another world-ending scheme, but he could still create human-scale chaos if he was free to do as he pleased. So, both Grunkle Stan and Ford retired from their monster hunting adventures to watch Bill, and Dipper had decided to give them a hand.

He moved into Gravity Falls and started taking classes at the Community College a few towns away (though the drive was a bit of a hassle). The extra help would be very much appreciated as Bill did his best to get into anything and everything, and generally be the biggest pain as he could be. They would have probably been driven insane in the first month, seeing as Bill’s body had no need for sleep, if they hadn’t been granted an unexpected boon.

The ingredients used to create Bill’s body had given him a weakness to sunlight. He wasn’t like a vampire (no matter what Mabel said)- the sun did not burn or kill him, but it left Bill weak and sluggish when exposed to it. Not that it kept him from annoying everyone around him; he tended to whine as loudly as he could about being tired and would lay down where he knew someone trip over him.

After tripping over the little shit on their way to the kitchen for a week, Stan and Ford had started dropping Bill into a bed at the start of the day to get him out of the way. Dipper’s bed to be specific- both old men had weapons in their bedrooms and the last thing they wanted was for Bill to get a hold of them.

This would hardly be a problem if Dipper had been an early riser like his Grunkles and Mabel, but no, he was a night owl and his usual wake up time was usually close to noon. So, he now woke up to Bill staring at his sleeping face (the first time it had happened, Dipper had screeched at the top of his lungs much to Bill’s amusement).

Today was no different. The demon leered at him from across the small space separating them, his mouthful of fangs glinting in what little light that slipped past the curtains into the room. His cat-like pupils were locked on Dipper’s face and the yellow of his scalera nearly glowed against his dark complexion.

It was an unsettling thing to wake up each day.

Bill wriggled his eyebrows tauntingly.

Dipper scrunched his face in disgust. He knew what Bill was waiting for; every day he had to crawl over Bill to get out of bed and the demon always made the experience as awful as possible. Dipper had tried escaping down the foot of the bed, but after one too many ass grabs (and one memorable time Bill had de-pantsed him) he stuck to climbing over his unwanted bedmate. 

“Tick-tock, Pinetree,” Bill cooed obnoxiously, blond hair tangled around his handsome face.

Dipper shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. He knew he would have to get out of bed eventually but he still put it off because the worst thing about going over Bill was that he was cold. Somehow due to his body’s weakness to the sun, Bill produced no warmth during the day- no, Dipper felt it was more like Bill sucked up any warmth in the air around him, including whoever was unlucky enough to touch him. Even from the distance between them, he could feel the coldness radiating from Bill… or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

Because something about that lack of warmth deeply disturbed the boy. It made him feel as if he had a corpse in his bed and his skin crawled.

“Dipper,” Bill suddenly whispered, uncharacteristically quiet and actually using the boy’s name, “I’m cold.”

“You’re always cold,” Dipper hissed, wondering what game Bill was playing at now.

But, Bill’s face had gone slack and his eyes vacant and glazed. “You’re warm, Dipper.” Blood slowly leaked from his mouth, staining his sharp teeth nearly black.

“Bill,” Dipper choked out, hair standing on end. He squirmed away from the blond until his back pressed against the wall. “Stop it-.”

“So… cold.” Bill started to move in twitchy movements, eerily reminiscent of the twitching movement of insects, and began to close the distance between them.

“Bill!”

But Bill was already on him, cold hands clawing at Dipper weakly. “Warm,” he droned mindlessly, more dark blood gushing from his mouth to stain the sheets. He stared blankly into Dipper’s eyes, reflecting the boy’s terrified face back at him. He then shoved his face into Dipper’s throat, quick as a viper.

The boy shrieked, feeling the cold blood from Bill’s mouth and expecting to feel teeth next. Instead, all he got was a tongue slobbering up and down his neck for a moment before Bill pulled away to cackle at the top of his lungs.

“What,” Dipper blinked in confusion, his mind stuttering as the mood suddenly shifted.

“You should have seen your face,” the demon hooted before he howled with laughter again.

It only took a few seconds for the boy’s brain to catch up and, as anger was quick to follow the realization, he shoved Bill out of the bed to the floor.

Bill continued to laugh, not moving from where he fell.

Dipper was hardly done; he climbed out of bed, making sure to step on Bill as much as possible (and avoiding the other’s grasping hands), and stomped over to the window to throw the curtains open as wide as possible.

The laughter cut off with a hiss, Bill curling up in place as if to hide in a ball from the light. “Come on, kid! It was just a little joke!”

Head held high, Dipper marched out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He knew he would have to deal with Bill’s revenge later but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. Bill was too much of an asshole to deal with first thing in the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters are mentioned but I never really get around to including anyone besides Bill and Dipper in these :I.


	9. Exorcist Dipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is called in to handle a rogue demon. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this a week before chapter 8, but at the time I hated it. I decided to wait on it so I could look at it with fresh eyes, and now I can say that it's not awful. It's rather short and bare-bones but I didn't feel like trying to rewrite it.

Dipper knew the rules- he practically had them ingrained into his brain from how many times he repeated them to himself. Handling demons was incredibly dangerous business and one wrong move will not just get himself killed, but also anyone unlucky enough to get caught in the aftermath.

Do not trust it. Do not turn your back on it. Do not believe it. And, most importantly, do not make a deal with it.

Break even a single rule and he had only himself to blame for the results. So, the instant he returned to the waking world, struggling against the thick layers of demonic magic, Dipper was filled with instant self-loathing. He had broken every single rule in the book except for making a deal.

Bill Cipher may have been extraordinarily charming, sly, and disarming, but Dipper wasn’t that much of an idiot. Or maybe he was because the demon was gone from his trap.

With mounting horror, Dipper jumped to his feet to examine the devil’s trap with a critical eye. He mentally begged every deity he knew of for it to be a trick- that the dream demon was simply altering his perception in hopes of him being stupid enough to break the circle, but no, Bill was simply gone.

It should be impossible. Dipper was incredibly thorough when he had drawn the circle and even now he could see no flaw in the design (though it was now charred into the cement floor). Any attempt to break it from the inside should have destroyed the demon trapped within but there was no sign that Bill had even been singed by the circle’s destruction. 

There was no way Bill could be that strong, right? This was all supposed to be a routine exorcism; some amateur cultists had summoned a demon to possess the idol they had been worshiping. The cultists had been rounded up by a branch of the FBI (though not before they had sacrificed nearly the entire population of a small town), and a call had been put out to remove the demon before it caused any more trouble.

This was hardly Dipper’s first assignment but he had made so many rookie mistakes. Despite the scale of devastation, he had assumed that Bill was a minor demon who could pull a few clever tricks (mistake number 1). Then he had let his curiosity get the better of him; he had never seen a demon like Bill before, so instead of banishing it the moment it had stepped into his trap he had talked to it (mistake number 2).

Dipper didn’t think there could be any harm in taking a minute to examine the demon once he had trapped it, but now he was sure he had played right into Bill’s hand. Due to the nature of the contract it had made with the would-be cultist, Bill had been trapped inside the Idol until the terms of their deal had been met. To sever the old contract and to allow him to properly banish the demon, Dipper had to summon it into his trap as was standard procedure. 

Any time he had done it before, he had been cursed and raged at by the demon, but Bill….

“Thanks kid, it was starting to get a bit cramped in there!”

Dipper felt sick.

Without a contract, Bill would not be able to stay on this plane of existence for long, but considering that it broke free from the trap unaided there was no telling the level of destruction it could manage in that time. This was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

Dipper was going to need help. 

(Ford would be so disappointed.)


	10. WTNV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Welcome to Night Vale thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? I'm supposed to be working on my Nano project but this wouldn't get out of my head. It's disjointed and unedited by here, have it.

In the small town of Night Vale it is very hard to keep track of facts. Reality had a startling tendency to change at the flip of switch, almost literally, and what was true one day might not be true the next. City laws and the laws of physics tended to change so rapidly that it was quite difficult for even the most clever minds to keep up. So, Dipper liked to just keep a few facts as undeniably true in his head.

 

He, Dipper Pines, was not a native Night Valean. He couldn’t really be sure where he came from originally as his brain usually answered that question with a few different locations, but he was not born and raised in Night Vale. Like so many others, the town had drawn him there from his very normal life to fulfill some purpose that was beyond his understanding. Or possibly because it needed to boost its population numbers what with the frequent and gruesome deaths that occurred in the city. Either way, his life was now in Night Vale.

 

Dipper Pines was a nickname; he was as sure of that as he was that he had a twin. No matter the horrors or pleasantries that he faced in this town, Night Vale could not take his twin from him (and he was half certain it had tried). In his old life he might not have been aware of it, but there was a bond that existed between them that could not be broken without serious consequences- he had researched it thoroughly on a whim that had felt like a burning compulsion. He would have died for Mabel, and he might have already done so. That might be how Night Vale originally sank its claws into him, but the details are rather blurry.

 

At this point he would welcome death (possibly, maybe) but he could not die for the same reason he could not leave Night Vale; he had not fulfilled his purpose for being there yet. It itched at him at the back of his mind, tasting of something that burned at his tongue, and colored his dreams with shrieking moans. He invested in one of those soothing rainforest cds to fall asleep to.

 

He probably could escape the town if he actually took the time to seek out this purpose given to him, but there were so many dangers in being curious in Night Vale. Being observant and aware was just as bad- the event with Sherrif’s Secret Police that he did not recall had been a rather terrifying event where they had tried to figure out if he had been some kind of spy, or possibly recruit him… he’s not sure because he did not take time to think about it.

 

So, if the town or whatever else entities wanted him to do something they would have to learn to be more direct with their demands. He wanted to remain as unmutilated as he possibly could be, thank you very much.

 

Adjusting to Night Vale had been difficult. Mostly because it had been fascinating and there were quite a few things that enjoyed using fascination to lure the unsuspecting to them. Dipper had learned to not listen to voices asking him to bring lobster bisque to certain sections of the city rather quickly. 

 

(A part of Dipper whispered about how scared it was that he didn’t know how he escaped so many things; the memories blurred and distorted from more than the SSP’s reeducation attempts. Something had a vested interest in Dipper and that was somehow more frightening than anything else in Night Vale because it had proven stronger than anything else that had attempted to claim him.)

 

His neighbor had been very kind in teaching him how things worked in Night Vale after Dipper had stopped shrieking and sobbing for the hour after he had seen the woman’s burned out eyes. She was very kind even after he had been so rude; twice a month she baked him sugar cookies and left them outside his door for him. He did his best to ignore that they were on a ceremonial offering a plate and how she shrieked and moaned prayers outside his door for twenty minutes when she did. (Something about the woman’s eyes made him feel like she was staring directly at his soul and that these offerings had something to do with what she saw).

 

He had managed a good run of keeping his mind vacant and keeping his head down until one morning he woke up strapped to an altar, stripped naked and someone or something’s blood painted on his skin. Hooded figures huddled and wailed around the altar, luckily not being the same hooded figures that haunted the Dog Park but still being a clear and present danger. Dipper rattled his chains to find they were of good quality, possibly new, and were not likely to break.

 

It took Dipper a few minutes before he realized that the hooded figures were chanting something backwards, increasing in speed and pitch until it was a sharp, continuous noise- a rising Shepard’s tone. The mental shield he had raised, the vacancy of his mind, disappeared in an instant and fear flooded him in a massive, black wave.

 

He screamed and screamed because he should never have stopped, not from the first moment he ended up in this town until this very second. The chains pinched at his arms as he thrashed and struggled, but it was futile and a waste of energy.

 

The cultists began to topple over- fainted or possibly dead, Dipper couldn’t tell- but still the Shepard’s tone continued to pierce his ears. Then everything came to a stop, sound ceasing with a pop of his ears that left them aching, and it appeared hovering above him. The thing that had called him- that had laid its claim across his soul so vividly that everyone in this town could see- had returned to this world, using Dipper as a vessel to call him across dimensions.

 

“You sure are stubborn, Pine Tree,” the thing- demon, cooed, hovering as a golden triangle above Dipper’s prone body. It’s single eye gleamed with sadistic delight. “That’s just what makes you so cute.”

 

The human trembled in his chains, tears spilling from his eyes as frightening certainty overwhelmed him. He was caught.


	11. Hand Holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergent; Bill was not destroyed but was instead cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I find missing in most ship fics? Hand holding. Give me more of that aggressive hand holding and I'll be a happy woman.

Dipper usually hated when his sister compared his behaviors to a cat- his much cursed sneezing and how he tended to fall asleep in sunny spots- but maybe, just this once, it would be deserved. After all, cats were famously curious what with the adage, ‘curiosity killed the cat.’

 

(He blatantly ignored the ‘and satisfaction brought it back’ in this context, because NO.)

 

It was curiosity that drove him up to the attic of the Mystery Shack, which had once served as the twin’s bedroom that one fateful summer, past all the boxes and junk crammed into the room to the one bit of empty space in the room. To stand just in front of the triangle window so obviously shaped like a tribute to the one that floated motionlessly inches in front of it. A demon caught in stasis, cursed to never wake and plague the world again.

 

Bill Cipher dangled in the air, held up by nothing but as immovable as a mountain, and looking like another one of the forgotten displays. His golden exoskeleton glittered dully in the light and his inky, noodle-like arms dangled loosely from the bottom of his triangle form. Like this, he looked harmless- not like a creature that could rain down armageddon on a helpless town and drive countless people to madness. In this state it was almost laughable to be afraid of Bill.

 

And yet Dipper still was. Ten years and he still could not forget the spine-numbing terror the demon invoked in him. Couldn’t forget that shrill, echoey voice and the things it said to him- the secrets and promises and threats whispered directly into his mind. The demon haunted Dipper’s dreams even with the demon being trapped inside his own mindscape, no supernatural influence needed, and he wondered if he would ever be free of Bill’s influence.

 

That was why he had come here every Summer since then, to this town and this house, to face the demon he could not forget. Ford had sworn there was no way Bill would ever wake, that the requirements for such a thing to happen were impossible, and thus had never forbidden any of his family from coming to the attic. It was a form of therapy for them all, to face this fear without any danger involved. (Sometimes Ford would come up and swear at the motionless demon when he was frustrated. Mabel had once whacked Bill with a metal bat until it had dented too badly to be used for anything else ever again. Stan avoided the room but with no true aversion to the demon, more because he found it kind of creepy.)

 

Now, Dipper was going to do what he had been to afraid to do; he was going to touch Bill. Mostly to prove to himself that he wasn’t still afraid of Bill and that he was past that Summer of nightmares. Still, he hesitated now that he stood before him, feeling like the air was too thick to breathe, the silence to complete to move and disturb it. His own anticipation was thick on the air giving the whole thing too much of a reverent feel for his taste; his stomach churned as he remembered feeling the same while standing inside an empty mosque, the feeling of being so small in a place meant for worship.

 

Disgust filled him at his own cowardice- at his thoughts- and he shoved it all aside to reach out and poke one of those limbs.

 

It swung back and forth, limply, like a pendulum until it slowed down and stilled into motionlessness again. That seemed rather anticlimactic.

 

Dipper allowed himself to breathe. There, see, he told himself mentally, you’re just being ridiculous. Bill can’t hurt him anymore. Couldn’t try to tempt him like the less metaphorical demon on his shoulder. Still, his curiosity had not abated. 

 

He reached out and grabbed one of those small hands, ignoring the twisting in the pit of his stomach as if that would suddenly jolt Bill back into motion. Ford had shown him years ago that it was perfectly safe; Bill was not aware enough to put any magic into such a gesture.

 

Huh. Bill did not have a palm, Dipper realized as he slid a finger along the inside of the demon’s hand. It was more like… like he had sprouted tiny stumps to act as fingers from a bigger stump, an approximation of a hand rather than the real deal. His fingers had no nails or claws. There was no hint of an internal structure, no bones or muscles, and the limb sagged like a limp noodle when Dipper held the hand up; the portion connecting it to Bill’s triangle body moved along the edge as it was pulled along.

 

Slightly fascinated, Dipper moved the limb back and forth to watch it move seamlessly along the edges like oil on water. He had never had a chance to just watch Bill like this, to observe some of the weirder aspects of his anatomy because he had been too busy being scared- too busy watching for danger to come from the demon to really _watch_ him in any other way.

 

After a few seconds of that, Dipper turned his attention back to the hand in his own. It was almost funny how small it seemed in his hand now, tiny and childlike in Dipper’s large hands. He pressed the hand to his palm to see just how much his hand eclipsed it and the little fingers didn’t even reach the base of his own fingers; idly, he remembered how Mabel had once advised him how anything small or tiny was automatically cute- no exceptions. Would this count? Or would Mabel finally make an exception for Bill Cipher’s tiny hands?

 

Dipper let out a shaky giggle and curled his hand around Bill’s to give it a squeeze. The texture of the limb didn’t resemble skin in any way, feeling smooth like metal or perhaps a polished stone, but it gave slightly under pressure like flesh would. Like his arm was some kind of tube filled with flesh… Dipper dropped the limb immediately with a grimace. Considering what had happened with Bill’s hat and the quantum destabilizer, it was quite possible that he was right.

 

As if it could erase the last ten minutes, Dipper wiped his palm against his shorts to get rid of the feeling of Bill’s hand in his own. And also to stop the slight tingle that lingered after he let go. Dipper let his eyes roam over Bill’s form and searched for something else to explore; he already knew that the top hat could not be moved in the slightest, just like Bill. The bow tie lacked a third dimension so he couldn’t even really touch it. He wasn’t about to lift Bill’s eyelid to peer there; Dipper had seen the results when Ford had attempted it and his grunkle would not stop screaming and sobbing for ten minutes afterwards- so hell no to that.

 

But, he was slightly distracted by Bill’s eyelashes. It seemed oddly mammalian for such a thing like Bill to have eyelashes, that he would have something made out of hair connected to his non-flesh form. Were they even hair on Bill? Carefully, he ran his fingers over the demon’s lashes.

 

Like his limbs, Bill’s lashes had an odd smoothness to them that didn’t feel like flesh or hair. It felt like oil in a way but the texture was oddly feathered, the huge lashes actually a collection of smaller ones bunched together in sections along his lid. How odd. What purpose did it serve, Dipper wondered as his fingers explored them.

 

Suddenly he was reminded of a thing his sister had showed him in grade school, a thing called butterfly kisses. Where brushing your eyelashes against someone’s skin was an innocent little kiss. Dipper jerked his hand away and felt his face get oddly hot.

 

What the hell? Why had he thought of that, especially in a situation like this? More importantly, why was he getting so flustered?! He was a grown man and he didn’t blush over things like kissing- not that he had been kissed just now!

 

‘Butterfly kisses’ did not count as kissing he told himself, rubbing at his cheeks in annoyance as they continued to blush. No one counted that as actually kissing, and besides, this was a thing of nightmares and an abomination; he should only feel disgust if he there had been an actual kiss involved- which there hadn’t.

 

As if to prove his point, he grabbed Bill’s hand and brought it up close to his own face. He blinked twice and let his eyelashes brush over the demon’s hand just briefly. There, that hardly counts as a kiss, he thought, and began to pull away.

 

A shrill laugh stopped him, one so familiar from the way it haunted his dreams, and color fled his face.

 

Bill’s hand suddenly grabbed Dipper’s, the tiny fingers somehow wrapping completely around the human’s hand and keeping him from pulling away. Bill’s other hand shot forward to grab a fistful of Dipper’s hair to tilt the man’s face up.

 

Dipper stared in horror at the eye stared right back at him.

 

“Well,” Bill quipped jovially, eye curved up in glee, “I usually don’t kiss before the first date, Pine Tree, but for you I’ll make an exception!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The curse Ford put on Bill can only be broken by true love's first kiss. Ford thought that such a thing happening with Bill was impossible because a) someone would have to kiss Bill, and b) that person would have to love Bill. This is clearly impossible for Ford to imagine. I wonder what sort of reaction he'd have after this happened?


	12. Destiny Has a Sense of Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate a/u.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I've added to this, so here you go. Billdip. Also, I wrote Dipper having some bad anxiety during this chapter, and it kind of set off my own anxiety. So, I'm warning for that:
> 
> Dipper experiences some bad Anxiety in this; be careful if that will set you off.

Dipper Pines, like half of the world’s population, was born with a timer on his wrist. It had started counting down the day he was born, marking the time until he met his soulmate, and on that day the counter would disappear and be replaced by their soul marks. It was all standard and routine. If there had been any sort of issue, his counter would have frozen to let him know; things like being in the wrong country or city would cause the counter to freeze. Any deviations that would make their meeting happen sooner or later would just add or take away time from their counter.

The only thing to fear would be the counter simply fading away before it reached zero, indicating that his soul mate had died before they had a chance to meet them.

Sometimes it felt like too much responsibility to be the one branded with the counter, or at least it did to Dipper. He can remember staring down at his frozen clock as a child, wondering if he’ll end up missing his soul mate because they were unlucky enough to live in different cities, and then watching the timer suddenly start again one Summer while visiting his Great Uncle in Gravity Falls, Oregon. How he spent that Summer trying to find his soulmate even though there were years still left on the timer and watching in envy as Mabel met her own soul mate, Pacifica, in the first two weeks of their arrival.

As the timer holder, it was up to him to move his whole life up to sleepy Oregon- or at least if he wanted it to happen in the time predicted. Because, as everyone likes to remind him, destiny will find a way. It just will take longer if he drags his feet and is he willing to wait even longer for the other half of his soul? Every time he’s asked that, Dipper bites his tongue to keep from blurting out that it wasn’t like his soul mate would even know.

These days only stuffy conservatives will go on about saving yourself for your soul mate, so it’s likely that his soul mate, whoever they are, have dated- might be currently dating- and there was no shame in that. But, Dipper could never really give himself into a relationship with the timer counting down on his wrist; he knew that not all soul mates worked out, that it wasn’t any sort of guarantee for happiness with someone, but it felt pointless to get invested with someone else. (Watching the only girlfriend he ever had trace over the timer numbers, mouthing the time left to herself with a bit of envy and sadness just left a bitter taste in his mouth). Which is kind of hilarious considering that his parents were married to each other and weren’t soul mates, both of them lacking a timer and not having any idea when their soul mates might come for them; it just seemed so much easier to go on with your life when you didn’t have a reminder branded into your skin.

And Dipper was so sure that his soul mate would be much happier without him. 

Mabel, beloved sister that she was, had done her best to build up her twin’s self-confidence and she would be upset to hear such words from Dipper.

But, years of bullying had put doubt in Dipper’s mind. How many snide comments can one kid endure about pitying their soul mate? Too many times he heard how relieved his classmates were that they weren’t stuck with gross, weird Dipper Pines. Kids can be cruel and even though the bullying had decreased as Dipper grew into himself (and increased how often he showered), he could never quite get their words out of his head. Soon he began to have nightmares about meeting his soulmate and watching the disappointment appear plain on their face.

As the timer began to wind down- to less than a year, than a month, and finally less than twenty-four hours- Dipper felt a noose tighten around his neck. This was supposed to be the happiest moment of his life but all he could see was looming failure and heartbreak. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe; no matter what distractions he tried to use, his eyes would always jump back to his wrist.

This would be so much easier if Mabel were there, to comfort and distract him, but she was on vacation with her soul mate in Europe. And that was something of a relief because- as the timer counted down to less than two hours remaining- Dipper knew Mabel would throw a fit if she could see him now, hiding under his comforter and fighting the urge to hyperventilate. He couldn’t do it, not today (maybe not ever). He unplugged his landline and modem, and turned his cell off completely; today was a day for avoiding the whole world. When there was knocking on his door, he just cocooned himself deeper into his blankets.

His mind was made up- he was not leaving his bed today.

The timer continued to count down, but he knew that it would eventually increase in time as Dipper stuck to his guns and refused to be moved. He shoved his arm under his pillow and then buried his face into it, entertaining the thought of trying to nap through his meeting. The fabric of his pillowcase quickly grew damp from his breath and it soon bothered him enough to make him turn his head to the side. He squeezed his eyes shut to continue blocking out the world, his heart still thundering away in his chest as he tried to block out the thoughts racing through his head.

In a few hours he would give his sister a call and lie through his teeth (like a lying liar who lies) about his timer suddenly climbing up all on its own. As long as he didn’t facetime her, she wouldn’t be able to see that he was lying by his guilty expression; and that was enough to make his pulse start to calm down.

Dipper let the tension leak away from his body, his shoulders drooping down as he finally relaxed into his mattress. The furrow between his brows eased and he sighed quietly- maybe he would take that nap. He had stayed up the entire night pacing his house and the easing of his anxiety was almost enough to put him into a slight doze.

From deeper in the house, there came the sound something big hitting the floor.

All sleepiness left Dipper in a rush; he raised his head from the pillow and cocked his head, listening carefully for a few seconds. Something must have fell over, he reassured himself even if his brain was drawing a blank on what that possibly could be; nothing to be alarmed about. Still, he moved quietly as he climbed out of his bed, pulse hammering away in his throat as he made sure to walk lightly. He grabbed a bat- a house warming gift from his Great Uncle Stan- from the closet; this would be like every other time he had gotten himself worked up like this he was sure, and he would feel a bit silly for freaking out over a breeze knocking over a photo frame or something or other.

As he made it halfway down the hall, a strange man in dark clothes rounded the corner in a rush. Dipper only had half a second to register that _there was someone in his house_ when-

His soulmate timer went off with a shrill beep beep beep and sent a nearly painful vibration through the bones of his arm. Dipper felt the bat slip between his numb fingers and clatter on the hardwood floor; he felt frozen and all he could do was stare dumbly at the man- the burglar in front of him.

And his soulmate stared right back, golden eyes wide in surprise. He wore a beanie tugged low over his forehead, but a few golden blonde strands of hair escaped out the sides. A bandana blocked the bottom half of his face from sight, but what skin that was visible was a dark brown; he wore an unremarkable black hoodie, leather gloves, and faded jeans.

 _At least I can’t see if he’s disappointed_ some hysterical part of Dipper’s mind pointed out as he continued to stare.

“Well,” the stranger pipped up, voice strangely shrill, and twirled a crowbar (that Dipper had missed in his daze) in his hands idly, “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Dipper continued to stare, his face contorting with disbelief into some squinty, unattractive expression.

The stranger shrugged as if he were some sort of innocent party in all these events, and shifted his dufflebag (that, again, Dipper had missed) further up on his shoulder.

Dipper’s eyes darted to it.

“Ah, you’re probably going to want your stuff back, right?” The stranger reached up to hook a finger over the bandana and tugged it down to reveal that he was grinning. And that he was pretty attractive, with a strong jaw and hooked nose. “I’m Bill, by the way.”

An inarticulate noise escaped Dipper, his brain still unable to comprehend what was going on. Wasn’t he just making a great first impression? Then again, it wasn’t as if his soulmate was doing any better in this situation.

Bill whistled sharply (making Dipper jump). “Boys,” he called over his shoulder, “put it all back!”

There was silence for a moment, but then gruff laughter echoed back to them with a few calls of ‘good one, boss.’

“I said,” Bill snarled and then barked “ _put it all back!_ And if I find that you’ve so much as pocketed some loose change I’ll break your fucking legs!” Then he turned back to Dipper, ignoring the sound of thundering footsteps and urgent voices, and Bill shrugged at him again as if saying ‘what can you do.’ “There we go, no harm done.”

Dipper could only blink and feel as if he had been struck dumb.

“So, soulmate,” Bill purred and flashed a charming grin, “want to get dinner some time?”

“Uh,” Dipper began awkwardly, his mouth flapping open and close a few times before he just nodded with a jerky motion. This had to be the strangest soulmate meeting in recent history. He had no idea how he was going to tell his family about the fact that someone had broke into his house, but also the fact that the person who did so was his destined soulmate. There was no way his parents would approve- though Mabel would probably find it hilarious. 

One thing was for sure, destiny definitely had a sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I just wrote this because the idea made me laugh. Kind of had to wrangle the soulmate a/u idea to make it work though. Can't really expect Bill to go to work if he had a timer of his own counting down.


	13. In All My Dreams I Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm is brewing in the South, but the Captain has ordered Dipper to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song of the same title from the Devil's Carnival. I haven't seen it yet, but I love this song? I was tempted to add more of the lyrics to this but I felt it would be too clumsy.
> 
> Oh, this has been sitting in my docs since December of last year; I finally got around to finishing it. Here you go.

The sea was too calm. The air too muggy and filled with a charge that everyone aboard could feel. They were old hands at this- they cast suspicious gazes at the horizon and began to secure things to the deck. It was done in a muted mutter, the tension to thick for even these old sea dogs to chatter as they went about their tasks.

Dipper’s chest was tight with a quiet terror. To the South he could spot a collection of dark clouds on the horizon, rolling in with great speed. The storm would swallow them up in moments and all his fears would be realized. He could not move from his spot on the deck, rope clutched in his hands and eyes heavy with all his sleepless nights. With his attention caught, he did not notice the Captain sweeping up to him with his usual flair.

“There you are, love,” the man crowed, a wide smile stretching across his dark face. His golden baubles clinked together, heard even over the wind picking up in speed and volume. His single, golden eye crinkled at the corner- the other covered with its usual eyepatch- and he snatched the rope out of Dipper’s hands.

“Captain,” Dipper yelped, his hands fumbling for the rope though he had no idea what he’d been doing with it. His movements were sluggish and weak, the rope long gone before he could react.

The Captain passed it off to another crew member, his single eye locked on Dipper intently. “You haven’t slept in many, many days,” he purred, a sadistic sort of delight on his face mixed with open affection. He pressed his leather clad hand to Dipper’s cheek, thumb sweeping over the dark bruises under Dipper’s eyes.

The dark clouds were sweeping closer, the sea turning gray and turbulent underneath it. The sun was soon hidden behind them and a chill swept over the ship, everything dulled in the absence of light.

“I can’t sleep,” Dipper croaked, tears welling in his wide eyes. Nightmares had haunted him for weeks, horrors swimming up from the dark depths of his unconscious mind to turn his peaceful nights into hours of torture. “I’ll sleep when we get to shore- but I can’t now.”

Even as all other colors faded, the Captain looked as bright and vibrant as usual, golden hair spilling down his shoulders in messy tangles and his crimson and gold coat so bright that it almost hurt Dipper’s eyes to look at him.

He shushed Dipper. “Don’t be like that, dear. You’re no fun when you’re like this,” he complained and wrapped an arm around Dipper’s shoulders to guide him along the deck towards his cabin. “You have no fight in you when you’re half dead from exhaustion- it’s no fun, basically!” The captain pouted at him with good humor. 

“I’m sorry, Captain.” Dipper trembled, eyes darting to the other crew members as they darted to and fro. The ship was now swaying and rocking with the choppy movements of the water. “We should really--” but he didn’t get to finish as he was lead inside the Captain’s quarters.

“Hush now, love,” the Captain shushed him, “it’s time for bed.” He shut the door behind them, cutting them off from weather but not from the noise or the sight of it out the large bay windows lining the back of the cabin. 

Lightning arced through the air and the sea had turned a stormy gray color as it churned restlessly. Dully, through the wood and glass, the sound of the howling wind could be heard with the shouts of the crew, interrupted occasionally by claps of thunder. It sounded as if they had already entered the heart of the storm and the thunder could be felt rumbling in Dipper’s bones.

The cabin was dim, the lantern turned down as if prepared for a night of rest and deepened the shadows of the corners into pits of black. The blankets on the Captain’s bunk had been turned down, ready for anyone to sink into its plush embrace. In that moment it was terrifying.

The Captain pressed a hand between Dipper’s shoulder blades. “It’s time for weary little saplings to surrender to sleep,” he purred, his voice dropped to a hypnotic tone of warmth and comfort, and shuffled Dipper closer to the bed.

“Captain,” Dipper’s voice broke over the word, “please, don’t make me sleep.”

He did not reply. Instead, he began to strip Dipper of his clothes with tender, familiar movements; he untucked Dipper’s shirt from his pants with leisurely tugs as if he could not hear the chaos outside the cabin, pausing to press his palm to the tender curve of his belly. The Captain’s thumb rubbed a circle just below Dipper’s navel, the leather clinging slightly to the sweat that beaded across his body, before he pulled the shirt completely over Dipper’s head.

“I will do anything else,” Dipper begged. His hands darted to the Captain’s shoulder, clenching hard at his coat until his knuckles turned white. “I can clean your cabin- I’ll mop your floors, clean your clothes.”

The Captain unlaced Dipper’s breeches, fingers deft even while in gloves.

“I’ll take any punishment you decree. Take the whip to me, beat me or take away my rations!” Tears filled Dipper’s eyes. “I’ll warm your bed without complaint, but please.” His lips trembled. “I don’t want to go to sleep; in all my dreams I drown.”

No reply. The Captain kneeled on the floor, a salacious curl to his lips and moving slowly as to not dislodge Dipper’s grip on his coat. He lifted Dipper’s foot by a grip under his knee and used his other hand to tug the boot free from his foot; he tossed it over his shoulder without a care to flutter his fingers over the point of Dipper’s ankle. Slowly, he guided foot back to the floor and into a puddle of water before he set to work to remove the other boot.

Dipper flinched, eyes wide as they darted about the cabin- water was flooding in from under the door and slowly seeped in through the walls to trickle down to the floor. It was quickly filling the cabin and when Dipper’s other foot was placed on the floor, it had already risen to ankle height.

The Captain didn’t react in any way, a hard glitter in his eye that spoke not of lust but of dominance and satisfaction- in the situation, in Dipper’s submission and lack of resistance. He pulled Dipper’s breeches down his legs, slowly, revealing him inch by inch with no sense of rush, until they pooled on the floor into the flood of water.

The storm had grown to a deafening level and water rushed into the room, illuminated by flashes of lightning through the window. Terror left Dipper weak-kneed and pale, but he was rooted to the spot by fear, but also by the Captain’s steady gaze.

“Captain, I beg you- I will do almost anything, just ask!”

With grace, the Captain stood from where he kneeled as the water reached knee level. Despite the howling of the winds and gnashing of the ocean, his voice was smooth and easily audible. “You always sound so sweet when you beg.” He ran his fingers through Dipper’s hair and then cupped the back of Dipper’s head in his palm. “I’m tempted to play with you just to see what you say, but that will have to be for another time. It’s no fun when you’re too delirious to put up a fight.”

Tears spilled down Dipper’s cheeks, his fears laid as bare as his body as he trembled and swayed with the rocking of the ship.

“Time for bed,” the Captain crooned sweetly and lifted the other man into his arms like a bride (or a prize) to carry Dipper to his bed. Humming a haunting melody, the Captain gently laid him into the bed- ignoring the way Dipper clung tightly to his coat- and tugged up the sheets. But, he didn’t just tuck Dipper in; the Captain took one of Dipper’s thin wrists in his hands and wound the sheet around it, his motions leisurely but it squeezed the other man’s wrist tightly, and then tied it to the headboard.

“Captain-!” Dipper protested in a half-shout as he tried to yank his arm free. The water was now spilling over the edge of the mattress. They were sinking! Soon they would- “I’m begging you,” he sobbed out pitifully, “Bill, please.”

Bill shushed him, voice soft as a lover’s but his eye burned with hellfire. “Don’t fight me, Pine Tree; it’s time for you to sleep.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Dipper lifted his other arm up to rest above his head so his Captain could tie it up as well. The water now pushed up past his ears and his tears slid over his temples and disappeared into the sea water; they were sinking down, down, down into the mouth of Hell. To where he couldn’t escape.

“Hush now, hush love,” Bill continued to croon, his voice hypnotic and rhythmic- a haunting lullaby. He pulled the curtains closed around them, the sound of the storm now a distant murmur that was covered by the sound of rushing water. A cold, dark prison only lit by the glow of his eye that curved with covetous delight. “So weak, so sweet- hush now.”

As the water was about to swallow him up, Dipper couldn’t help but beg again. “Please, Bill- anyone, someone, wake me up!” Then he squeezed his eyes shut as the water rushed over him, choking as it flooded into his mouth and lungs despite his efforts. For a moment he thrashed in his watery bonds, the curtain dancing through the water to flutter over his skin (or was that Bill’s touch?).

Then, he was surging up in his bed, coughing and gasping, and only wet with sweat and tears. The nightmare was over but still Dipper screamed, angry and terrified, because in all his dreams he drowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was aiming for that same creepy, haunting quality of the song. Did I nail it?


End file.
